Doctor Who: Short Trips
by m.tarnina
Summary: Various sketches with various characters in them - basically, a pen for plot bunnies. Some fooling around with points of view and tone. Rated for any ratable stuff that may find its way in eventually.
1. A Knight's Tale

Pandorica, A collection of historical sources", editors: dr. Evelyn Smythe, Michael Wainwright, Barbara Chesterton; Cambridge University Press, 1985, Cambridge; page 152-155.

 _A tale told by sir Owen to monks, as the good brethren were tending to the wound a beast has given him, the wretched chimera._

...not having yet wandered far from dwellings of Christians, and keen on gaining my glory with some knightly deed, as Luna shone, making the night into day, I did not stop to rest but rode on, reining my steed. And the road was pure silver before me, as if I wandered into a dream, and seeing a wraith or a fay would not seem to me much wondrous.

Having then encountered a half-fallen castle, walls black as iron, at once I saw on the battlements a figure darker than the sky. And it made my heart rejoice, for I thought it the eternal guardian of the Pandorica the strange and treasure-rich.

"Sir!" I called him "whether you are of the Isle of Apples, or a mortal knight, I challenge you! Let us duel with swords or with axes, till first blood or to death, whichever you will."

When I so called, down came the man-shadow from the castle walls and he walked to me, and I saw in the moonlight the helm gleam on his head, and a cloak on his shoulders, and from underneath the cloak a golden glimmer of his armour. He spoke "You are not the first to covet the secrets of Pandorica the strange and treasure-rich. O, unwise! The jewel without price, which I guard, shall perish if unshrouded before the time comes. Go you in peace, and if it's adventure you want, follow this path, and you shall find one."

But I knew Lords and Ladies to gladden in leading Christians astray, so I spoke unto him "I cannot, for I have made a vow to my lady, the virtuous Melisandra, whose eyes are as black as the night sky, that I shall bring her the riches of Pandorica. I am a knight, and my word binds me."

A sigh escaped the Guard's mouth, and the gleam of his helm flickered like the waters of a stream. Thus he spoke "Would she not be pleased more with jewels, brave knight? In the heart of this forest there is a mighty castle, its dungeons filled with rubies and diamonds large as your fist. Upon them a cold-hearted chimera lies asleep, dreaming black thoughts, and those who lived there lie dead from its treachery. Slay the beast, and you shall do a noble and knightly deed, but leave me in peace."

Fool! Fool I was to deem this craven ways of the longaevi and to speak with irreverence, thinking the Guard frightened by my prowess "You shall not meet me in a fair duel?"

And he spoke, and his voice was serene as the great wizard Merlin's "If you make me, I will, but there is a great peril soon to befall the good king Arthur, and I do not wish to deprive him of knights."

I dismounted and called "Defend!"

And I heard his sword shash from its sheath, and I saw a glint of lunar light in the blade.

"Have you thought" he said "afore setting out, that the treasure hidden in Pandorica the strange may be fraught with peril, or of no use to your lady? And how would you bring it to the castle where this maiden dwells?"

"When I gave my knight's word, I shall find a way" I spoke and charged at him, but the Guard evaded my strike, then he spoke, as if over a chess-board on the Christmas Day "Mayst you be more prudent in your promises?"

I answered with a mighty charge, yet this one, as well, stroke nothing, and each of my strikes he parried or avoided. Not a once did the Guard of Pandorica charge at me. Deeming this an insult, I was incensed, I assaulted with might, but my blade slid on his helm and cut into his shoulder, and went into it whole. But the Guard did not wince.

"Are you satisfied?" he asked, calm as if we were at a feast together, and I retreated, for though darkness concealed the colours, I would have seen the blood, if there was any.

"I did not wish to fight you, truly."

His own blade he sheathed with a clink. After, he pulled mine out of his shoulder and held it up for a better look in the moonlight.

"Well-crafted. This blade shall cut a head off chimera with ease, save the land from a perilous beast, earn you knightly fame and baubles for your lady. This I advise, and to forget Pandorica, for it is not for you."

And he offered me his hand to pull me, speechless, from the ground.

"Who are you?" I asked, when he gave me my sword.

"I have wronged, now I am a-righting. Ask no more."

"Wronged how?" I spoke, but he hung his head, silent.

"I shall be grateful if you deal with the chimera" he said "for I dare not leave my post."

With this, he walked to the crumbled walls, and did not look back. I mounted my charger to ride further into the forest, far from this place.


	2. Light (during Turn Left - morbid!)

Lethbridge-Stewart is waiting for them by the main entrance, leaning heavily on his cane. His daughter is with him, a pale blonde in a grey skirt suit, whom Sarah Jane has seen a couple of times. Her scarf is blowing in the wind. It's the colour of cloudy sky.

Pleasantries are exchanged. Before she's past the gate, Sarah Jane can't remember what exactly has been said. The Stewarts lead her and Luke, who's excited and worried at the same time, through the courtyard, into the fortress.

The guards remind her of concrete statues.

It's bitterly cold within the thick walls of Tower. Sarah Jane is wondering how deep will they go. She's trembling, and it gets harder to control with every step, as if she was walking into ice-cold water, unable to stop or turn back. Luke is holding her hand, but she barely notices. His fingers aren't much warmer than hers.

Overhead, fluorescent lamps suddenly jingle alight. They fill the corridor with a mechanical buzz and a hard white light, light that underlines with black streaks of shadow each wrinkle on their faces, each crack of the mortar in between the stones. Glaring white and black lines, like a photocopy.

Their steps echo on the floor.

A young man in a blinding white coat is waiting by a steel door. He greets both the Stewarts, then he greets Sarah Jane who can't hear a word of what he's saying. She blinks, but her eyes are still dry and tired. The lamps keep going out and turning on again, jingling and buzzing whenever she expects it the least. The door unlocks with a clang. The young man - Sarah Jane notices he's pressing a clipboard stiffly to his side - pushes it open for her.

The room is filled with the same fluorescent light. Heavy, hard, merciless. Stealing the colour from the skin. It makes each line of the body laid out on the table sharp, defined once and for all, unchanged from the beginning of time.

How could he be alive in this light?

If it went out, he'd breathe, stretch, blink his eyes. He'd sit up, legs dangling off the table. Oh, Sarah, you're always making that mistake, he'd say. Then he'd take her hand. He'd complain about Sarah making his shirt wet.

But Luke is holding her hand now, the white light pressing down the Doctor, or maybe it's just a wax figure? It's impossible, it's unnatural for him, the Doctor, to not move, not even twitch at all.

The lamps have to go out, then he can smile, call her his Sarah. Tell her a wild story which will be completely true. Land in Aberdeen instead of Croydon.

Turn off the lights, Sarah Jane pleads. Someone, maybe Luke, puts his arm around her and leads her out into the brightly lit corridor.


	3. Time Travellers Gotta Stick Together

_Found while tidying up the old papers - probably a part of something bigger that got eaten by dust mice or something._

Waiting for the next sentence to form, River takes a sip of her milkshake. Which is a mistake, as the sheer sugaryness of it shorts out her brain. America. So many better places to be.

"I had to explain to my own mother dad was in love with her" she finally says.

"And that he's straight."

Across the table, seated in front of a delightfully tacky Z-movie poster in an aluminium frame, the boy and the girl both laugh out loud.

"You're kidding."

"Uh-uh. Scout's honour." River pushes the styrofoam cup aside. "Then again, I've never been a scout, so... time-traveller's honour." she adds in a theatrical whisper before giving the kids a wink. They're in stitches.

Such a cute couple, she thinks. A jukebox starts screeching several tables away, some sugary tune from the Fifties, just the background for this place. Good thing it's not playing _I'm My Own Grandpa_ , River decides, her fingers brushing against the blaster holster. These walls are so thin. Spared no thought for the archaeologists of the future.

"This is heavy" the boy gasps. Then he rests his elbows on the table.

"But I've got one better."

They both lean towards each other, and after a dramatic pause the kid whispers "I was named after myself."

"Oh?"

"Apparently mom liked 'Marty'."

He leans back against the vinyl headrest with a roguish smile. River, mock dumbfounded, takes a moment to polish her fingernails on her denim jacket.

"I" she finally admits "got both my name and my alias after myself."

Folding her arms, she looks the boy straight in the eye.

"So it's one for you, kid, and two for me."

Marty's girlfriend, who's glowing pink like the neon clock above the door, giggles into his sleeve.

"Now you've been outclassed."

"Not so sure about that."

The kid's got a dangerous twinkle in his eye. That's exactly what River likes in the Americans. Taste they may lack, but they're indomitable.


	4. Most Ordinary of Deeds

_Agape isn't always high drama - sometimes it shows in the most ordinary of deeds. Warm-up after the break._

"Ingrate" said the Doctor and slammed the hood closed. He knew from the start that every tiniest nut in Bessie's mechanisms was perfectly fine.

It would work just right – provided with gasoline.

But the nearest petrol station was many miles behind. He barely even saw it, too busy with an imaginary session of berating Lethbridge-Stewart and that narrow, military "mind" of his. Whoever the Earthling was who invented those cars, he must have had a similar mentality, not enough imagination to find a way of drawing energy from space itself, like any civilisation worth the name would, as soon as it started exploring its home planet.

A raindrop tapped on the end of his nose. The Doctor gave the sky a long, icy look, not blinking until another drop fell into his eye. Then he said something that couldn't be made printable even by the most tactful translator from Gallifreyan. Rubbing his eye, mumbling under his breath some not-so-friendly words for the universe in general and that sanctimonious, miscarrying-of-justice lot of Time Lords in particular, the Doctor perched on the driver's seat of his very own (ha!) primitive vehicle.

To get stuck on a planet that was still dependant on fossil fuels, and didn't even make a decent effort to change the fact - that was torture enough, but to get stuck again on a small, colourless, dried-out (if maybe not right now) bit of said planet? And why? Because he simply forgot to stock up on products of cracking and refining of petrol? As if he had no pressing concerns. In any case, the fuel can from Bessie's boot was filled to the brim with the loam Liz should have had analysed by now, and it stood in their lab in London. If it was on Gallifrey, it'd be just as useful.

The Doctor turned his collar up, which did not help at all - water was trickling down his hair and creeping under his shirt, and it was very cold, besides smelling faintly (he suspected it wouldn't be noticeable for the natives) of sulphuric acid. It was a barely-there smell, but it was doggedly _there_. By-products of combustion simply released into the atmosphere. Primitive planet.

He was blinded by the lights of a passing car. The Doctor scrunched his eyelids, turning away. Must be those traffic police people. Let them try and give him a ticket. The rain was battering and splashing on the road.

The door of other car slammed. Behind the curtain of rain someone asked "Your car broke down?"

The Doctor pushed water and wet hair off his eyes, but the man was still just a dark figure among the grey.

"It works perfectly well" he said haughtily "all it needs is petrol."

The man muttered something, which might have been the Doctor's imagination. He could hardly hear anything in this downpour, unless it was as sharp as the bang of a boot being closed.

"Let's get the roof on first, so you don't drown in there" the stranger said, putting a red fuel can on the tarmac beside Bessie's wheel.

Without a word, the Time Lord helped him cover his car with a canvas top. Afterwards, as the Earth man was pouring the foul-smelling gasoline into the tank, the Doctor tried his best to shield him from the rain. Finally the stranger screwed on the cap.

"Here you go" he said. "Check if it does work, it's not too late to get help yet."

The Doctor gave him a measured look, then opened the door, waited for the water to pour out, gingerly got in and turned the key. Bessie choked, grunted, then started purring the way she should.

"Thank you!" the Doctor called, sticking his head outside the window. The Earth man waved his hand before returning into his own car.

Waiting for him to rejoin traffic, the Doctor watched water pour down the windscreen in trickles small and large. They resembled braids and, decorated with delicate red beads of light from the other car, they were, in a way, pretty.


	5. First Draft of Rory's Letter

_Typed from a crumpled piece of paper from a waste basket on Brunswick Road. Square parentheses denote parts that have been crossed out.  
_

[Glevum Nervensis] Gloucester, January 19, 1997

Anji Kreiner,

The Museum of Natural History, Human Resources Department

Gloucester, King's Walk 13

[Q. Numitorius Rufinus] [Ruairidh] Rory Arthur Williams

phone number: (stain makes it unreadable)

address: London, Frith Street 7a (ask Mr. Fell whether he'll keep my mail for me for a few weeks more)

Dear Madam,

In response to your job posting in The Gloucester Citizen dated January 12, 1997, I am applying for the job of a night guard in your museum.

Previous experience includes [1,881 years guarding the Pandorica, which the Museum has just] (ink spot) tasks fulfilled throughout Europe. Among others I have worked in [Kingdom of the Two Sicilies] Italy. The last [seventy] few years I have spent in London, working as a guard for the British Museum, but [you're moving] I'd like to slow down a little and settle in a smaller, quieter city, which would be made possible by working for you.

At all my previous postings I have been evaluated as a dutiful guard. I have successfully thwarted several burglaries - enclosed are clippings from daily newspapers documenting those (note to self - don't send anything from before 1990) - as well as a scuffle between a visiting paleontologist and the resident (wouldn't have done a thing, but dinosaur bones are heavy and concussion seemed imminent) - enclosed is the relevant clipping from The Times. Also enclosed are my references from British Museum. [I am licensed to hold arms] (but not applying to be Rambo) I hold driving license of categories B and C and am willing to help transport exhibits.

Thank you for taking time to read and consider my offer. If you find it attractive, I will be happy to present my qualifications during an interview. [The sooner, the better.]

Respectfully yours,

R. Williams


	6. Donna and Ten Play Puzzles

_Yes, he did win Donna's freedom at senet (he would have done something more dire if he had to, but prime minister Ai would not live to such a ripe old age if he didn't know when to fold 'em) - if you want to write this story, please do (I want to know, too!) The puzzle they're solving here is known on Earth and quite easy (took me ten minutes, tops)._

"I hate... Indiana Jones..." Donna took off her hat and started fanning herself with it. Her sudden movement jostled a huge beetle on her shoulder. "Yuck!"

And the shiny little monster stumbled away, across the moss covering the topmost step of the largest pyramid on Lilavati (after Egypt she wanted somewhere wet - and here they were), the planet to go if you want puzzles and riddles and stuff. And the shadow of the temple they took shelter in was getting smaller.

"Tough" the Doctor ran his hand through his hair, which wasn't even wet, stupid alien. Donna had a new appreciation for what brussel sprouts had to endure.

"It's the last lock."

"Next time, space man" she said, crouching beside him on the stone slab that should be radiating off cool, not stuffy warmth "remember that 'wet' means a swimming pool. And lots of umbrella drinks, I'll have you know."

"It says here" the Doctor slid his finger along a row of scratches, barely visible in stone "that we need to swap heaven with earth."

"Just what we do every day."

"It's a puzzle, Donna" he said, infuriatingly patient, which earned him a small slap on the arm.

"I know. Ugh, thinking in this sauna" with a sigh, she sat down on the stones.

The Doctor got up to pace around (helped him think), mutter things under his breath and mess up his hair, while Donna had a good long look at the door. Huge, heavy door. How did they haul these up here? It looked as immovable as physically possible, decorated with a fancy tangle of flowing wavy-viney lines. In one corner, suspiciously inconspicuos, sat a vertical thingy with depressions in it, just like the board for that game the Doctor played with Tutankhamen's grand vizier, and kicked the old man's ass at it beautifully, too (Donna had pitied the boy-king himself, even though he was just as annoying as his uncle).

She wiped her forehead before leaning in closer to study the "board". It even had pieces, probably fixed in place. There were five of them on both the upper and the lower end, and one empty place in the middle. The upper-end pieces were turquoise, with lovely little stars carved in them and lined with silver, while the lower ones seemed to be malachite, with these green lines it always has, lighter and darker. These had leaves drawn on them with golden lines. The whole thing was exquisitely pretty and Donna couldn't stop herself from touching the smooth turquoise.

The starry piece slid one place down. Donna squeaked.

"What's that?" The Doctor was by her side in half a second, just in time for them both to laugh.

"Heaven and earth! Of course!"

"Okay, but what now? No more empty places under the star."

"Oh, Donna! You're not giving up, surely?"

"You wish. Can we jump the pieces over each other?"

The Doctor pressed the uppermost leaf, which vanished and reappeared in the empty slot.

"Ha!"

"Ha!"

"Move the star now..."

"No, there won't be any place to move afterwards..."

"Try the leaf, here..."

"And that other star, just..."

"That one! Move that one, so there's star-leaf,star-leaf!"

"Bravo!" It took the Doctor seconds to move the pieces into their proper places. There was a grunting screech inside the door, vibrating in Donna's fillings, and then the huge, immovable slab moved aside, definite as the Judgement Day.

Behind it, surprise, surprise! - there was a dark corridor, festooned artfully with cobwebs or roots or things. Donna whistled the Indiana Jones theme. The Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her in, right into the trap-filled temple, giggling like a fool.


End file.
